


waking dreams

by pyrrhic_victory



Series: dangerous sentiments [7]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Birthdays, Drinking, Episode: s03e18 Distant Voices, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Garak's issues, Genetic Engineering, Julian's issues, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhic_victory/pseuds/pyrrhic_victory
Summary: It's Julian's birthday. He ends up in a coma, because of course he does, and his surprise party turns out to be more of a ‘we’re glad you’re not dead’ party. Garak worries and drinks too much.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: dangerous sentiments [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576258
Comments: 28
Kudos: 209





	waking dreams

**Author's Note:**

> discussions of drinking, alcohol abuse, addiction in this one

Julian called it pessimism. Garak called it being prepared for the worst. Semantics aside, when he caught a glimpse of Odo through the doors of his shop, hauling the Lethean across the promenade from the infirmary, the voice in his head that constantly warned _everything is going to go wrong very soon_ started to scream. 

He strode out of the shop in a haze. He locked the door. Another security officer left the infirmary and two nurses ran in before he reached the entrance.

Medical staff swarmed around the figure on the floor. 

Scanned him. 

Lifted him onto a bed. 

Half the words didn’t make sense to him, so he latched onto the ones that did.

Psychic attack.

Lethean.

Unconscious.

 _Coma_.

***

Lights flickered on and off. There was something-

Something there, whispering. 

He was alone. No, Quark was there. There was something in the shadows. 

Garak was there, pushing him against the wall and kissing him like they weren’t both about to be killed by whatever was in the dark. 

Then alone again, his joints starting to hurt. There was something in the walls. 

Something whispering. 

***

“As I have already told you, no.” 

“Really, Constable, what could possibly be the harm in letting me speak with a prisoner? Surely he’s no threat to me behind the force field?”

“That’s enough, Garak. I’m not letting you anywhere near the Lethean, and we both know it won’t be your safety at risk if I do.”

Odo’s impassive eyes bored into him. A different tactic, then. He dropped most of his outer niceties and let out the frustration that boiled inside, careful to temper it into cold steel. 

“Do you really expect me to just sit here and let Dr Bashir die when the key to his survival is sitting in one of your holding cells?” 

Odo leaned back in his chair, unbothered. 

“I have already told Altovar that he will be extradited to his home planet, where he faces a death sentence. He has made no attempt to cooperate with my questions so far, and I doubt he knows of any cures for Lethean attacks. All your interrogation will accomplish is making you feel better. I’m not letting an agent of the Obsidian Order near my detainees, let alone in an emotionally compromised state.”

He was too keyed up to pretend Odo wasn’t right. There was nothing he could do.

“Oh, the Obsidian Order again? Really, Constable, if you’re going to waste my time with such baseless accusations, I may as well take my concern elsewhere.” He ducked out of the office and tried to still the shaking of his hands as he went back to his shop. 

***

Everything ached. It shouldn’t have, since it wasn’t real, but maybe that was his body’s way of dealing with mortality. 

His friends yelling at him. 

His friends killed, one by one. Jadzia. Kira. Odo, fading into the floor. 

Then Garak, opaque and irritating as ever, helping him around and playing tennis. He was fairly sure the real Garak didn’t know the rules of tennis. Maybe he should teach him. 

Again, the distant whispers. 

***

Garak’s nose felt decidedly broken. Pain radiated across his face like the feeling of desert sunlight on his skin. There was blood in his mouth, too. He licked more of it from under his nose. He hadn’t tasted that in years. 

Dax and Sisko were in the infirmary when Odo dragged him in by the arm. And there was Julian- comatose, silent, motionless in a way he never was. Even when sleeping he shifted around and mumbled and flung his arms about. 

“What happened to you?” Dax asked. 

“I merely wanted a more intimate conversation with our Lethean friend, which for some reason the Constable completely refused!” Garak exclaimed, somewhat truthfully. His voice felt wrong, his nose tightening painfully when he spoke. 

“What he means is that he tried to deactivate the forcefield around Altovar’s holding cell, and might have succeeded if I hadn’t been there to stop him,” Odo filled in, more truthfully, as his hand tightened on Garak’s bicep. 

That was a less artful interpretation of the truth, which is all he could have expected from the Constable. 

“And just what did you want to have a more intimate conversation about, Mr Garak?” Sisko looked about as unimpressed as he usually did when Garak made his presence known.

“It seemed as though he was trying to discover ways to counteract a Lethean attack,” Odo filled in before Garak could come up with an excuse. 

“You’d be surprised what the Cardassian government requires its citizens to enquire about in the name of scientific progress,” Garak said. He didn’t want these people knowing he cared for Bashir. 

The medical staff were less hurried now, mostly monitoring vitals at consoles and murmuring to each other. Jabara approached and scanned him. He didn’t care what she said about his nose or his bleeding lip, he just sat on a bed as instructed and glanced furtively at the motionless body. 

Julian was so still that he might as well have been dead already, and Garak might have mistaken him for being so had he not been surrounded by a dozen machines all telling him otherwise. He didn’t know what the readings actually meant. Computers, he could understand. But this? He was useless. He couldn’t do anything. Julian was laying there, dying, and if their roles were reversed he would know exactly what to do but Garak didn’t and he was _useless_.

“He could still pull out of this.” Dax’s voice drifted towards him and he realised she was talking to him. 

“While I have no doubt of the doctor’s excellent constitution, I believe Lethean psychic attacks are almost always fatal.” He winced at the sound of his own voice. 

Jabara fixed his nose first, ordering him to stay very still while the device knit his bones back together. The pain faded to a dull ache and he chased after it rather than think about how Julian was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He ought to have seen how determined Altovar was, he ought to have stopped him from ever laying a hand on his-

His what? His- his doctor. Julian. The one person on this station he cared about.

He could feel a deep bruise forming on his thigh where he’d fallen against the desk in the holding area. Jabara moved to treat it, but he stopped her. Not worth the effort, he told her. 

“We think he can hear us,” Dax said, after a while. “People in comas sometimes can.” She was looking at him carefully, sensing some distress on his part but assuming it was out of friendship. He hoped, anyway. Pain had a funny way of revealing the truth. He ought to know. 

“I thought that was a sentimental myth. A story people put about to make themselves feel better,” Garak said. He rubbed his thigh, teasing out a bit of pain to clear his head, so he wouldn’t have to think about what exile was going to be like without Julian.

“Maybe,” Dax shrugged. “But I find the best stories are always a little bit true.” 

***

Ops was full of tennis balls, for some reason, and Garak wasn’t Garak- he couldn’t trust him-

He couldn’t trust Garak, but he loved him-

And Altovar was sneering like he knew why he’d got that question wrong in the final exam, like he knew why he’d quit tennis-

His father had railed at him. They’d test him for cheating if he got too good. They’d find out.

Altovar knew why kept everyone who loved him at arm’s length, why he was so eager to be good at what he did and yet so afraid of being too good-

He knew.

Altovar knew.

Garak knew. 

They all knew and he was finished-

But Altovar got one thing wrong: Julian Bashir was not the kind of man who gave up.

Sisko and Dax were there when he awoke. 

His body wasn’t in a fantastic state, but as he looked over his scans he grimly noted that it was a lot better than he should have been. He swallowed down the fear that observation caused. Nobody would think much of it. If asked, he could say Altovar’s attack had been weak, and that he was young and fit, with luck on his side. 

Garak had his own opinion on it, as was expected. 

“Cardassians don’t believe in luck,” he imperiously said, with that sense that he was both imparting great wisdom and staring deep into Julian’s soul while he did so. “You survived because you’re strong.” 

Julian pushed down his dread and kept eating. Sometimes he feared he’d given Garak too many clues already. Little things nobody else would notice, but his fear of losing control was a big one. He should never have asked Garak to watch out for out-of-character behaviour, and never would have if the Xanthi fever hadn’t riled up his anxiety. 

Most people like him ended up experiencing some side-effects from their enhancements that led them to be institutionalised for the rest of their lives. The same kind of institution his parents feared sending him to in the first place before he was genetically enhanced. So far, it seemed like he was one of the lucky ones, who got all the benefits without any of the side-effects. 

If he could consider a lifetime of fear to be a benefit. 

But who knew what would happen when he got older? That was half the reason he was so uncomfortable about turning thirty in the first place. That, and his annual resentment towards the overenthusiastic message his parents sent him, and the mechanical one he was forced to send in return. 

When his birthday actually came, he found he wasn’t in such a bad mood as he had been. He didn’t feel any different than he had at 29, but that was the way with birthdays. He hadn’t felt 20 when he turned 20; he’d almost reached 21 by the time he’d gotten used to the idea. 

On his sixteenth birthday, his first after discovering what had been done to him, things had been somewhat explosive. The house had been a minefield ever since the dirty secret came out, and having his parents suddenly pretend they were a normal, happy family again with presents and cake sent his adolescent mind into a furious overdrive. He’d demanded to know when his _real_ birthday was - the day he’d left Adigeon Prime - and suggested they celebrate that, instead, since that was the day they gave birth to the son they really wanted. 

“Surprise!”

It wasn’t a surprise, but Jadzia’s arms were around his neck before he could register exactly what had happened to his quarters while he was on his shift. He saw the whole senior staff when she pulled back, plus Keiko O’Brien and half the nurses. 

“Happy birthday, Julian,” Jadzia said. 

“How’s life as an old man?” Miles asked, clapping him on the shoulder. “Gonna have to go easy on you in the next game, huh?”

“Oh, we can’t have that. I wouldn’t want your skills to get rusty on my account.”

It turned out to be as much of a ‘we’re glad you’re not dead’ party as a birthday party, though the mood was about the same. 

Julian was briefly overwhelmed by the number of people in the room who were all there for him. There almost wasn’t enough space. It was warm in there, music playing in the background, and Quark came bustling up to him with a tray of drinks and started rambling about them, and he wasn’t really listening because all these people were here to see _him_. 

Well, Quark was there for the profit. 

But the others - his friends - as he talked to them, the feeling of _belonging_ somewhere, after all this time, became so strong that he had to step back for a moment and just watch. 

It wasn’t him that belonged here, it was the version of Julian Bashir that everyone had in their heads, the naive innocent with nothing to hide. If they were here because they really liked him, not just out of pity, then they wouldn’t like who he really was. They’d be afraid. 

This worry went in cycles, every time he got settled somewhere new and got attached to people. It happened with Palis, too. He got comfortable, and then he got uncomfortable again, because he was lying to every single one of his ‘friends’ and they would turn on him if they knew what he really was. Everyone knew Garak was hiding something at all times, and nobody would be surprised if he lied. So he lied constantly and brazenly and obviously. But Julian had to stay silent, and pretend he had no secret at all. 

“Quite a party, isn’t it, doctor?” 

Garak had appeared at his side seemingly from nowhere, holding a drink. He was in his element, dressed sharply, watching people move out of the corner of his eye with practiced caution. If they’d been alone, Julian would have grabbed him and kissed him right there just to loosen him up a bit. 

“Jadzia’s really outdone herself this time,” Julian said, remembering after a moment that he was actually supposed to say something back. “She told me you got in trouble with Odo the other day.”

“Oh? I can’t imagine where she would have heard that.” Garak said. 

“She said he caught you trying to break into Altovar’s cell,” Julian said. 

“He ordered a new suit, and I’m very particular about getting my customers’ measurements correct.” Garak finished his drink in two gulps, smoothly placed it on Quark’s tray as he passed and swept up another. 

“So it had nothing to do with the fact that I was in a coma and he might have known how to wake me up?”

Garak peered at him over his new glass. “Though I would certainly like to think that my designs are innovative enough to raise a man from the brink of death, I’ve yet to hear scientific confirmation.”

Julian nudged him with his shoulder. He was touched that Garak had tried to help, in his own slightly terrifying way, even though Garak was terrible at admitting when he was worried about him. Garak just smiled a private smile and kept drinking. 

The music thrummed. Conversations shifted, groups changed, drinks were had. 

He found himself retelling the story of his coma to Miles, Kira and Odo, all of whom seemed mildly offended at the roles his mind had cast for them. It was like describing a dream he’d had, except that the memory of it remained incredibly vivid, like he’d actually lived it. Normally, his dreams were one of the few things he could easily forget. 

Things got a bit fuzzy somewhere around the middle. Time turned liquid for a while, and once he’d reoriented himself there was a different song playing and he recalled a few people hugging him and clapping him on the shoulder before leaving. Miles and Keiko had gone home to pick up Molly from the Petersons’, he remembered. 

He glanced around and realised there were only a few people left. He’d been talking to Kira and Odo, while Dax was deep in conversation with Garak about what sounded like Vulcan poetry. Quark appeared in front of him with an empty tray and a padd.

“ _Quark_.” Came Odo’s low, accusatory voice, before Quark could even open his mouth. 

“Whaaat?”

“Don’t think you’re going to get away with charging Dr Bashir for his own surprise party when you know very well that everything has already been paid for.” 

Quark turned to Odo with an affronted look. 

“You know, I can’t believe you, Odo. I was just about to wish the doctor a happy birthday and thank him for being a valued customer, and perhaps recommend one or two of my personal favourite holosuite programs, available at a great discount, of course-”

“That’s quite enough,” Odo cut him off. “Unless you’d like to spend the night in a holding cell for harassment.” 

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Odo,” Julian said, holding back a yawn. 

“You see, Odo? He says it’s not necessary!” Quark exclaimed. 

“All the same. I think it’s about time we gave Dr Bashir some peace and quiet, don’t you?”

“Quite right, Constable!” Garak exclaimed. “Though I must ask your permission to avail myself of your facilities.” 

“Yes, of course,” Julian said. Garak squeezed his shoulder on the way past to the bathroom. 

The others said their goodbyes and he thanked them - especially Dax, who had gone to a lot of effort for the party. Odo was the last out of the door. He glanced towards the bathroom, and Julian laughed a bit, encouraged by the gentle buzz of alcohol in his system. Odo scoffed in response, but it looked as fond as Odo usually got with his scoffing, so Julian considered it a victory. 

The doors hissed shut and he called for the music to be shut off. 

“Ending the party so soon, doctor?” Garak leaned against the bathroom door, watching him. 

“Not quite.” Julian kissed him, his slight tipsiness meant he wasted no time in pressing up against him. His mouth had the hot taste of alcohol too. “I hoped you’d stay. I’ve been looking forward to this all evening.” 

“I think it’s charming that you’d even consider the possibility that I’d come to a party full of Starfleet officers just for the conversation.” When Garak pulled back, Julian noticed he was holding a glass of something blue that he hadn’t been holding when he went into the bathroom. 

“Did someone leave that in there?” Julian asked. 

“Hmm, it’s best not to dwell on such matters.” Garak drank the rest of the glass without hesitation and squinted as he placed it very deliberately on a shelf before turning his attention back to him. Julian stared at him for a second, taking in a few things he’d missed before. 

“Are you _drunk?”_ He half-laughed. He’d only seen Garak properly drunk once before, and it hadn’t been memorable for a good reason. 

Garak pulled him close again. “I resent the very suggestion,” he murmured, and Julian could definitely feel the inebriation when kissed him more firmly and messily, smiling. “And furthermore, no.” 

“Oh, my mistake,” Julian said. He didn’t think he was quite as drunk as Garak was, but just enough that everything felt warm and fluid and he wasn’t thinking about what he was doing or saying half as much as he probably should. 

There was a half-empty bottle of champagne on a shelf that he was sure Quark had only missed because it had been left too high up for him to reach, and a bottle of Saurian brandy that had taken up residence under the table. He picked it up. 

“The party continues after all,” came Garak’s voice in his ear. He felt a comforting weight wrap around him from behind, and Garak’s nose pressed into the crook between his neck and shoulder. Julian leaned back into his chest and deliberated about having some more brandy. 

“Is it a party if it’s just the two of us?”

“Words can mean anything you want them to, my dear.”

“But it’s more of a...a get-together. A meeting. A date.”

“Ah, but we are _a party_ of two, are we not?”

“Good point. Very good point.” 

Julian turned in Garak’s arms and butted noses with him before he rearranged himself properly, bottle of brandy clutched to his chest. 

“You’re warm,” Garak informed him, as he frequently did, and nuzzled into his neck again. “Warm and beautiful.” 

“Oh, you _are_ drunk.” He had to be. He was never usually so clingy. 

“Kettle, pot. Um. What is that human expression?”

“Pot calling a kettle black,” Julian informed him. 

“Ridiculous phrase. By the way, I find it fascinating that you’ve met so many different versions of me.”

“How do you mean?” 

“There was a Garak in the mirror universe, was there not?” He kissed Julian. “And another in the Dominion simulation.” Kissed again between words, because Garak never stopped talking for long. “And now I have disguised myself as a Lethean in your subconscious.” It seemed like he became even more verbose when he was drunk, but more enthusiastic about kissing as well. 

“The Lethean disguised himself as you, actually.” Julian poked him in the chest. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.” 

“Why, that you can’t get rid of me, of course.” It sounded very much like a threat, which Julian had come to realise was affectionate. He smiled and hooked his arms around Garak’s neck, dangling the bottle over his shoulder. 

“Good thing you’re not getting rid of me, either,” he said. 

“It would seem that way. You shall have to do a better job of dying next time, if we are to be properly rid of each other.” 

“I’ll give it my best shot.”

They kissed again. Garak was being sloppier than usual. Julian liked it actually, proof that he wasn’t always as put-together as he’d like to appear. Then, out of nowhere, he ducked out of his grip, swiped the brandy from Julian’s hands and hid it behind his back. 

“Hey. That’s a crime, Elim.” 

“Hmm.” Garak leaned very close to him, smiling an especially wicked smile. “Are you going to punish me?” 

***

Warmth rocked over Garak in waves, from the drinks, from the black bruise on his thigh, from Julian’s mouth on his. He didn’t need to think of anything except brief flashes of smooth brown skin and soft brown eyes. 

“...happened to your leg?” Came Julian’s voice through the haze. Gentle fingers danced across the surface of the bruise.

“It’s only a bruise, my dear doctor,” Garak murmured, and took those warm fingers in his own, pressed them harder into the sore flesh. 

“Hey, careful. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“It doesn’t hurt. Just hold me like this.”

He shifted Julian’s hand for him again so he was holding his thigh properly, thumb digging into the bruise. The heat, the electricity flowing through him, the _power_ of it was overwhelming. Julian had his head tipped back, sweat glinting in the dim light. 

Beautiful and breathing and _alive._

Garak pressed his face into his neck and for a moment he was sure he could feel his frantic pulse beneath his lips. 

He breathed sweat and alcohol, and with the buzzing in his head, the sharp sting of Julian’s teeth in his neck ridge felt like a hit from a drug designed to wipe his mind completely clean of every thought he’d ever had, like he could come up for air on the other side a different person. 

Sheets sliding under his skin. 

Warm breath on his neck. 

A dry Cardassian summer night.

“Shift a bit.” Julian’s voice prodded at him. 

A rough towel wiped up the worst of the mess and disappeared. 

“You alright?”

“Mmm.” He’d run out of words, none of which would have been sufficient to explain the blissful calm that had come over him. 

He settled on his side, only vaguely aware of what his body was doing, and focused on Julian. He’d slumped on his back, breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling. Alive. 

“You’re alive,” he murmured. Julian laughed a little, probably at him, but he didn’t care. 

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Garak closed his eyes. “I was so angry,” he said. 

“About what?” Julian asked. 

“All of it. I was so angry at that creature. At you, for making me love you and then nearly dying. That wasn’t fair. But I was also angry at myself. It was completely my fault.” 

Julian was quiet for a while. Disturbing, considering it was Julian and he was never quiet unless he was thinking very hard about some medical emergency. He looked up, and the blurry impression he had of Julian’s lovely face was frowning. 

“Don’t be silly. None of what happened was your fault,” Julian said. 

“The attack? No, perhaps not.” He closed his eyes again and sighed. Looking at things was quite a lot of effort. “But loving you? For that, I have no-one to blame except myself.” 

There was something warm touching his face. Julian’s hand. 

“I love you, too.”

He felt himself falling asleep, wrapped comfortably in thoughtlessness. The last thing he was aware of was Julian’s hand in his hair. 

He awoke somewhere in the night, mostly because he desperately needed the bathroom. He stumbled a little on the way. The room didn’t feel real. He blinked at himself in the mirror several times before remembering what he’d come for. 

The hours before falling asleep were fuzzy at best. He’d only been shamefully intoxicated for about half an hour before sleeping with Julian, but it had a sanitising effect on the whole night, and as such he was left with only vague impressions and a dry mouth. 

He crept back to the bedroom, fumbled with putting his underwear back on and saw Julian had left some water on the nightstand. Clever doctor. 

He drank and refilled it in the bathroom.

When he came back, Julian was twitching in the way he always did when he slept. He wasn’t meant to be motionless, not like he had been in the infirmary-

And now he was thinking about that again. He tried to block it out, but the rest of the world flooded back in. The cold walls of the station, Julian on the brink of death-

He shouldn’t have drunk so much. _This_ was exactly why he couldn’t let himself drink that much anymore. Because he could never stand coming back to reality and finding it was just the same as it had been before. The cold always felt worse when he had to plunge into it from a warm bed. 

It made him want to stay in bed and forget that the cold existed at all. 

The bottle of Saurian brandy sat on the nightstand. He vaguely remembered carrying it in behind his back, teasing Julian with it. Carefully, quietly, he poured out a fresh glass.

“Hmm?” 

Not so careful and quiet as he’d thought. He held the drink out of sight without knowing quite why. Julian turned in bed to squint up at him. 

“Are you leaving?” 

“Bathroom. Go back to sleep.” 

He kept the glass hidden until he was out of Julian’s eyeline, drank the entire thing like a shot, and got back into bed beside him. Julian turned back and cuddled up to him, stroking down his spine. 

“Nice and warm,” Garak sighed. 

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the only reason you spend time with me.” 

“How perceptive you are.”

Julian hummed a laugh. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what? Unclothed?”

“Yes, but that goes without saying. I mean, I like seeing you relax for a change. I mean _really_ relax.” 

“You make me sound like a nervous wreck,” Garak laughed as he turned onto his back, though it was true. He doubted Julian would be pleased to discover that the only reason he was able to relax at all was because he was still drunk. 

“No, I mean…” Julian traced over the scales that lined his collarbones. “You’re always so...tense and put-together. I like that I’m the only person who gets to see you like this.” 

“Ah. Not perceptive, just presumptuous.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, then.”

“Hmm.” Garak leaned in to brush his lips against Julian’s. “Go to sleep, Dr Bashir.”

***

There were arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and steady breathing on the back of his neck. He didn’t think he’d woken with Garak holding him like this more than once or twice before. He was almost always dressed before Julian stirred. 

Julian shut his eyes again. He’d actually said it last night. Garak said he loved him. He’d never done that before, though he’d gone out of his way to demonstrate it silently. Maybe it was because he was drunk. But maybe, for once, he’d been acting like a normal person, and shared his feelings because Julian had nearly died and it scared him. 

Julian settled more comfortably against Garak’s chest. Unfortunately, he was sleeping with a twitchy, paranoid, hyper-vigilant spy who woke at the slightest movement. He could feel the slight tensing in his arms, the catch in his breath as he began to pull back. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Julian warned, catching his arm and tugging it right back where it was. “I’ve caught you, there’s no point denying it. I know your big secret now. _You_ like to cuddle.”

“What I _like_ is being warm,” came Garak’s low voice in his ear. “And you, my dear, are a furnace.”

“Would it kill you to admit that you might be a little bit fond of me?”

“Probably. If this headache doesn’t get there first.” Garak pulled away more forcefully this time, groaning. Julian turned to watch him clutch his head. 

“You did drink quite a bit last night.” He wondered if Garak even remembered saying what he said. 

“Save your judgements, doctor. Or at least present them more quietly.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and Julian handed him the water on the nightstand and the painkillers he kept on hand for when Garak stayed over. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice about it next time, that’s all.”

There was only a vague hum in response. Now he was sober himself, he looked at Garak with a new note of concern. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I imagine I’ll survive.”

“No, I mean…you don’t usually drink that much.” 

“If you have a point to make... ” His voice had hardened now. 

“I just worry about you, that’s all. It’s a doctor thing.” Once he started seeing someone as a patient, he never quite stopped. And he could never forget the mess of emotions that had risen up when he’d been trying to save Garak’s life last time his addiction had spiralled out of control. He was nowhere near as unstable as he must have been then, but Garak was so good at hiding what he was really thinking that Julian never really knew. 

“Actually, I think that’s a Julian Bashir ‘thing’,” Garak deflected, and lay back down again with his arm thrown over his face. “So. How are you enjoying the slow march into middle age?” 

“You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?” 

Garak just smirked at him. “Computer, time?”

_“The time is 0523 hours.”_

“You still have a couple of hours.”

“Come on, then,” Julian said, and tugged at Garak’s arm. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Cuddle. You. Me. Now.” 

He scoffed. “Not if you’re going to call it that.” 

“Oh, and what would you call it, then? Conserving heat?”

“That is a much more dignified description.”

Julian was comfortably embraced once again, held close, with tough scales against his back. He couldn’t let it go, though. He couldn’t stop worrying once he’d started. 

“Are you really alright?” 

Garak sighed. “Yes. I’m fine.” 

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?” 

“You never cease to amaze me, doctor. Three days ago, you were in a coma, and you’re worried about me because I drank a little too much at a party?”

“I’m fine now.” 

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?” Garak countered. Julian turned over so he could glare at him. 

“You have to make everything difficult, don’t you?”

“Well, you’d get bored of me if I made things too easy for you.” 

He did that smile of his, the one where he wanted to seem mysterious. Julian rolled his eyes. 

“Can you promise that you’ll talk to me if you do need help?” Garak looked away. Julian touched his face to get his attention back. “Please.” 

He sighed again.

“I told you, I’m fine.” Julian nearly growled in frustration. “But if there was something you could help me with, I would come to you. On one condition.” 

“What?” 

“You do the same with me. I may not be a doctor, but there are things with which I do have a certain expertise.” 

So that was the problem. Or part of it, anyway. He felt like he couldn’t help Julian with anything in return - or like Julian wasn’t letting him. 

“Sure. Of course.”

“Good.”

Garak shut his eyes and settled comfortably again. He looked like he belonged in the half-light, with shadows beneath his ridges. 

“What are you staring at?” His eyes were still closed, but somehow he knew. 

“Nothing.” Julian said, looking quickly away. It was probably silly to be embarrassed to be caught staring at someone he was in love with, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Hmph. And you call me a liar.” 

“That’s because you are.” 

“Everyone’s a liar. They just don’t like to admit it.” 

Julian felt that old, old fear dredge itself up. What would Garak say if he knew what he was? Would he be afraid? Angry? Impressed? And more importantly, what would he do? He had no idea, and he had no way of finding out without actually living through it. And that was his worst nightmare. 

“Relax, doctor. Whatever deep, dark secrets you’re harbouring, they’re safe with me.”

How did he always know what Julian was thinking?

“You’d know all about dark secrets, I suppose.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Liar.” 

He liked touching Garak’s ridges. It used to be because they were alien to him. Now it was just because the texture was familiar and he liked to be close to him. And he always focused on Julian completely whenever he touched him like that. 

“I love you, you know,” Julian murmured. 

There was that look - the shift behind his mask where it became thin and strained as his true emotions bled through - it always happened when Julian said that. And usually Garak would press his forehead to Julian’s afterwards, and kiss him. He touched his face, pushed back his hair in that unspeakably tender way of his. 

“I know. And against my better judgement...I love you.” 

He’d never said it before last night. Not aloud, not so straightforward. He always looked too scared. Even now, the words were hushed, like he thought someone might hear, and he avoided Julian’s eyes when he said it. 

“I know,” Julian said, feeling a smile bloom on his face. “I wondered if you only said it last night because you were drunk out of your mind.” 

Garak rolled his eyes. “That was certainly a factor. I’m not usually so…”

“Truthful?”

“Sentimental. I tell the truth all the time. Is it my fault no-one believes me?”

“Maybe if you didn’t lie quite so much...” 

“Hush. I’m trying to sleep.” Garak pointedly closed his eyes. 

“Don’t ‘hush’ me!”

“There are certain benefits to making the slow march into middle age, doctor. One of them is being able to hush young people.” 

Julian poked him. “You talk a lot for someone who’s trying to sleep.” 

“I’m good at multitasking.” 

Julian kissed him very lightly, just enough to make him crack open his eyes.

“How good?” Julian asked.

Garak sighed, putting on a tolerant, patient expression. Or, he tried to. He couldn’t quite cover up that he was smiling. 

“Very good,” he drawled. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“Please do.” 

Julian climbed on top of him and leaned down to kiss him. It was sleepy and fond, with a gentle grip on his shoulders that held him up. He was comfortable, warm, in just the right mood that it didn’t matter what he did so long as he was close to him-

_“Sisko to Bashir.”_

Being a Starfleet officer wasn’t always all it was cracked up to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what u think! improbable cause/the die is cast up next...


End file.
